04/25/2025
I hit my lowest point when I realized I hadn’t heard my name spoken in two weeks—except by my dog, Bixby. Despite everything, he made me feel like I still mattered. Even when we were evicted and shelters turned us away, we spent nights under bridges and in alleys, with nothing but a tarp and each other. He stayed by my side, never once leaving, even when food was scarce. One time, after going without food for two days, someone tossed us a sausage biscuit. I broke it in half, but Bixby pushed his half toward me, patiently waiting.
That moment truly broke me, and I started making signs, not to ask for handouts, but to explain. People saw the dirt and my tattered clothes, but they didn’t see Bixby—my constant companion through it all. Then, last week, as I was about to move, a woman in scrubs stopped and said five words that seemed almost unreal. (check in first comment👇)
